I discovered a camera my husband had secretly installed in our bedroom, aimed directly at our bed. In that instant, a chill ran down my spine—it felt as though I had never truly known the man beside me.

The Strange Object Behind the Nightstand
That day, while shaking out the bedsheets to wash them, a small black plastic box clattered to the floor from behind my side of the nightstand. Its top featured a tiny black dot, unmistakably some sort of recording device. My heart leaped into my throat. It was pointed squarely at our bed, and I had no idea when it had been placed there. I stared at it for what seemed like an eternity, waves of cold dread washing over me.



The Lunchtime Probe
It was hidden so cleverly—had I not shaken the sheets vigorously, I never would have spotted it.At lunch, I casually inquired, "By the way, have you put anything behind the nightstand recently?" David paused mid-bite, his fork holding a piece of steak, and shook his head naturally. "No, why do you ask?" "Oh, no reason," I murmured, lowering my gaze as I pretended to focus on slicing the broccoli on my plate. The clatter of knife against porcelain grated on my nerves. My fingers, gripping the utensils, felt icy. He was lying. That fractional hesitation was far too obvious. After he left for work, the house descended into an oppressive silence.


Alone with the Discovery
Driven by impulse, I returned to the bedroom and crouched by the nightstand. The black cube was still wedged in the same crevice. Pulling out my phone, I snapped several clear photos from every angle. The more I scrutinized them, the more it resembled the miniature cameras sold online. How long had it been there? What had it captured? Me wandering the room in pajamas during video chats with Sarah? More intimate moments? A wave of icy fear surged from the soles of my feet to the top of my head. David returned home, chilled from the cold outside.


The Face-to-Face Confrontation
I blocked the bedroom doorway. "What is that thing? We need to talk about this now." A flicker of irritation crossed his face. "What is it this time? I told you I don't know!" He tried to push past me. I sidestepped to block him. "The nightstand! That black box behind it, pointing at our bed!" He froze, brow furrowed. "I genuinely have no clue what you're talking about! Maybe it's some old part from a repair job or something? Can't you stop being so suspicious all the time?" He shoved past me impatiently, stormed into the bedroom, and slammed the door shut. The sound echoed, leaving my ears ringing. I stood there, staring at the closed door, numb with cold.

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